


I Don't Want Him

by midnightwriter



Series: Eye Of The Storm [1]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Canonical Character Death, Comedy, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-21 22:49:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16585760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightwriter/pseuds/midnightwriter
Summary: James Flint is the founder and lead singer of Eye Of The Storm.Hal Gates, the first guitar player, retired from the band one week before the beginning of their 25 years anniversary tour. Now, Flint has to hire a new guitar player to replace him, the problem is: he doesn't want to.Miranda, their manager, has to convince him and using violence is not beneath her.Billy is regretting every decision he ever made before becoming a drummer.And John Silver is a little shit - even if he's an amazing guitar player.This is going to be a series of one-shots (because I'm too lazy to write long fics)





	I Don't Want Him

**Author's Note:**

> J was my amazing beta! But English isn't my first language, so I appreciate if you point any lasting mistakes and typos. Have fun!

James Flint was many things - not all of them good if you asked around - and "perfectionist" was probably one of the first things anyone would say about him. He was the lead singer and second guitar player of Eye Of The Storm for the past twenty-five years. He founded the band in the back of his car at the age of nineteen, and though many others had been part of it through the years, assuming the other functions, James was a constant. James and Hal Gates, who was there almost since the beginning but who told him just five days ago that he was leaving the band to be with his family.

There was something about his wife being sick and James had to suppress all his rage and despair to actually feel empathy towards his old friend's situation. Self-absorbed and narcissistic were also adjectives people associated him with. He felt shitty afterward for being so cold after the news and apologized to Gates, who knew him too well at this point to take any of his odd moods into account. That was one of the reasons why they had been friends for over eighteen years.

Now his lovely friend and manager, Miranda, was persuading him into hiring a new guitar player for the tour. She suggested many names, including Charles Vane's, who had played in Eye Of The Storm a few years ago - before he left to form another band with Jack and Annie of all people, who had also played in his band before. Flint didn't hate their new band and he was able to admit that Jack wrote beautiful songs but his voice as leading singer left something to be desired. And he was not going to accept crumbles from his ex-bandmates... Or anyone else, to be honest.

Miranda was glaring at him more menacing than she had in a long time and he sighed, aware that soon he would have to make a choice before she simply grabbed the first street performer she met to be his guitar player. She had done that before, impatient to deal with Flint's bullshit. That's why she was the manager and his best friend; it required a whole new level of fierceness to hold any of those positions.

Now, he only had two days before the tour began. In thirty hours from now, they'd be traveling to another state and Flint still hadn't decided about the guitar player to replace Gates. Billy, the drummer and Gates' godson, was mutinous, threatening to leave the band as well if Flint didn't make a fucking decision. Idelle, the bass player, had resorted to ignoring them; she stayed in her house and said she would only leave the place after he had picked someone. Joji, responsible for the keyboard, sat in one corner silently judging them all while smoking cigarettes and drinking Flint's expensive bourbon before leaving to who knows where.

Miranda, always the practical woman, brought in a selection of twenty guitar players she found around the city through her contacts. She made them form a line in front of Flint's recording studio and told them all to play really loud until Flint answered them. He loved her but sometimes he thought he might strangle her.

"Choose one of them, Flint. I don't care how you're going to choose. I don't care if you're going to pick the best one or the worst, just pick some-fucking-one before I lose my patience."

"It's not so easy, Miranda. Whoever I choose will-"

"Will be lucky to be able to perform by your side. Because if you don't pick one, I'm going to murder you and no one else will have that pleasure." She gave him a pointed look that spoke louder than her words. "You have five hours to choose. When I get back here, you better have a name to give me. I'll let Billy help you out."

"Why this sort of bullshit always fall on me? It's Flint's problem."

"Technically, your godfather left us without a previous warning." She rose her hand, not allowing him to stop her. "I'm not saying he doesn't have a great excuse to do so and I know how trying it can be to work next to Flint for so many years," Flint protested and she ignored him. "But it is now your job to be Gates and be Flint's second in command, I don't care if you like it or not. Just do as I say and let us be free of this problem."

"Fine."

"Great! I'm sure you'll find someone worthy. Just remember that I'm back in five hours."

"Where are you going, Miranda?" Flint asked.

"Drink my problems and wait for them to be solved." She left both men staring at her shadow, unable to argue that she deserved those hours of heavy drinking.

... And so the process of choosing a new guitar player began.

By "began" you should understand it as it really was: men and women from different ages and backgrounds getting inside the building and playing their favorite Eye Of The Storm song, and Flint complaining about every single detail. Two men left the building crying, one woman almost broke her guitar on Flint's head (and it was mostly his fault, in Billy's opinion).

Then, John Silver entered, easy smile and shining eyes promising nothing but mischief. Flint already disliked him. He grunted and Billy rolled his eyes.

"Hello, gentlemen. I'm John Silver and I'm going to perform for you tonight. What would you like to hear?"

His voice was smooth and he moved like a cat, light steps and daring you to look anywhere else. This got Billy's attention and, since he was the last performer, if he wasn't any good they would have to pick him anyway, just to placate Miranda when she returned from her drinking adventure.

"Which Eye Of The Storm songs do you know?" Flint asked, bored.

"All of them."

Flint raised one eyebrow, seriously doubting that statement. He was pretty sure that not even him could play all of his songs at this point. A twenty-five years career meant that he had released more songs than he was capable of keeping track, some of them he hadn't played in almost two decades. It was going to be their 25 years anniversary tour, just after the release of their tenth album, the first one of his greatest hits.

Billy and Flint shared a look and Flint gave him a smile that was almost evil in Billy's opinion. This guy wasn't going to be able to play whichever song Flint played because Flint would choose one of those very obscure songs he hadn't played in years. Billy groaned as Flint requested the song.

"Tragic Symphony."

It was a song from the band's second album, written while Flint was going through a very rough phase of heartache after his boyfriend's car accident and tragic death.

And not just that. The melody was one of the hardest and the lyrics were in Elizabethan English - something about his and his boyfriend shared love for old poetry. It was a song Flint never played in live shows and sang it only at the man's funeral, never to be sang to an audience again, as Hal once told Billy.

"Ok."

He began playing and both Flint and Billy had to remember to close their mouths. He was playing it perfectly. He even began singing. In Elizabethan. Without murdering the language or the song. His voice was beautiful, his tone more sexual and slightly higher than Flint's angry and raspy voice.

The son of a bitch played all seven minutes of the song. Billy had to contain himself from sneering when he saw the guitar player smirk defiantly at Flint. That man knew he had been tested and knew he was good. He also had a death wish because no one who liked living defied Flint so bluntly (except for Miranda, but she was the exception about everything in Flint's life).

"Out," Flint said in his commanding voice, low but angry enough to not be ignored.

"What? But I played the song!" John Silver argued.

"He did play it, Flint. It's-"

"Out!" He yelled and the other two men looked at him, wide-eyed and angry, in Silver's case.

"You think you're going to find anyone better than me?"

"I don't give a fuck. Just get out of my sight you petulant son of a bitch."

Ok. Now was Billy time to intervene before the situation escalated enough to become another lawsuit against them. However, John Silver seemed unfazed by Flint's foul mood. That was new. Billy accommodated himself on his chair and observed as the two men stared at each other, not willing to give in. That was going to be interesting. Disastrous, but interesting.

"I'm not petulant. I'm good. A damn good guitar player."

The worst part was that Flint couldn't argue with that: the son of a bitch was terrific, enraging Flint even more if such thing was possible. He wanted to strangle him with his guitar chords.

"C'mon, Flint, give me a chance. I know all the songs, I'm good enough. You won't find these two qualities in any other candidates, especially not so close to the beginning of the tour. Give me two weeks of trial, that's good enough."

"Two weeks? Why two weeks?" He asked, intrigued by the specific amount of time requested.

"I think it's time enough for you to be marveled by my abilities and, who knows, maybe even like me."

The little shit had the audacity to wink at him. Wink. Right now Flint wanted nothing more than to break his guitar on the top of this obnoxious man's head and be done with it, however, Billy was eyeing him, challenging him to find a better alternative. Fuck. The little shit would have to do.

"Fine. You have two weeks. If I'm not impressed, I'll throw you out and you'll never find a job playing again."

At least at that threat, the man gulped. It was good to know he could still infuse fear in a man's heart like that. But it wasn't as rewarding as it should be, considering the man had just convinced him to hire him for the next two weeks. He breathed in and out, thinking that he would have two weeks to come out with a good excuse to fire him, one that even Miranda wouldn't be able to refuse. Two weeks was more than enough time for him to compile a ten-foot list of why he hated anyone. It would be even easier with this little shit, he already hated him.

"Call Miranda. Tell her we hired someone. For two weeks. And call Idelle and Joji, we have no time to lose before we begin," Flint ordered Billy.

Flint rose up from his chair and walked out of the room, not sparing a second glance at John, who was barely hiding a victorious smile. Billy sighed, knowing well how hellish the next two weeks were going to be. Flint was the vindictive type and didn't even try to hide it. Maybe he should call Miranda to bring some extra alcohol, they were all going to need it.

"Is he always this nice?" John asked, staring at the door Flint used seconds ago.

"Oh, no. Sometimes he's worse. Get used to it or you won't last the next weeks."

"It's ok. I can handle it. I never met anyone who didn't warm up to me eventually."

That confident smirk was back on John's face and, if Billy was a religious man, he might have done the cross sign or something because this wasn't going to end well. He ignored his feelings and called Miranda, who was tipsy and happy, made even happier with the news. Then he called Idelle, who only asked if the new guy was any good, which Billy confirmed. Then he called Joji, who simply nodded and, even if Billy couldn't see it through the phone, he knew that the man had done it.

Well, the least they could do was get back to their schedule after these many days of delay, and they only had two days to make sure everything was perfect, as Flint would require. Sometimes he thought about going back to his old job as a bartender; it was a less stressful life even if he barely made enough to pay the rent.

He walked John to their practicing room and showed the man where to plug his old and battered guitar. Wishful thinking was the best way to describe the fact that Billy knew things were going to be awful in these next couple weeks but hoped for them not to be. He sat behind the drums and began doing his job.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know when I'll post the other parts of this series, sorry. I'm lazy and college always gets in the way of writing. =(
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this nonsense so far! Thank you for reading! Kudos and comments are much appreciated!


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